The Bucket List
by paperbkryter
Summary: Inspired by his man Jack, Dean writes his bucket list.


It was two pages long and had been typed, single spaced. This might have impressed Sam had it not been done while he was trying to sleep the night before and if Dean had actually been able to type instead of hunt and peck with two fingers. The "tap...tap tap...tap...tap" noise, which had gone on for well over an hour, had been worse than the Chinese water torture.

Dean presented his masterpiece to his brother with a flourish. Sam put aside the salad he'd been eating, wiped his fingers on his jeans, and took the paper out of Dean's hand. He looked at it, skimmed through both pages, and said, "What is it?"

"Bucket List."

"Ya-huh?" Sam looked at the pages again. "What?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You know, that movie. Jack Nicholson, the dude from Shawshank?"

"Could you possibly be more ambiguous?"

"Huh?"

Sam sighed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's a movie. _The Bucket List._ These dudes have a list of stuff they want to do before they kick the bucket." Reaching over, Dean flicked the top of the pages with his finger. "This is my bucket list."

With a groan, Sam looked at the pages with a new perspective, one he didn't want to have. "You aren't going to kick the bucket, and when did you have time to go to the movies?"

"When I was supposed to be researching that witch last week."

"Dean!"

"What? I got nuthin' and you were still mucking around in the library being all collegy and stuff." Eyes wide, Dean's expression took on a distinctly reverent look. "Dude! Nicholson! I had to!"

Sam started to comment, and then changed his mind and continued to peruse Dean's list. He tried to ignore what Dean was doing, which was sitting down at the table and procuring Sam's salad, from which he proceeded to pick out anything that wasn't green or healthy and eat it. This included bacon, croutons, cheese and hard boiled egg. So much for lunch. Sam had lost his appetite after being reminded that Dean probably was, indeed, going to kick the bucket in less than two weeks and the fact that his brother had just come in from the bathroom. Dean's hand washing post urination was spotty at best.

"I want to be prepared," Dean said, idly crunching a crouton.

"Dean. This list is two pages long."

"So?"

"So...I doubt you're going to learn to fly a helicopter, drive in the Indy 500 and have sex with..." Sam silently counted. "_Nineteen_ Hollywood actresses, three of whom are dead, in less than two weeks." He pointed at entry number 22. "Parachute off the top of the Sears Tower?"

Dean grinned, then frowned. "Wait? What? Dead? Damn, cross them off. Not into necrophilia."

"I didn't think you were into heights either."

"Well if I screw up and go splat, what will it matter?" Pushing Sam's salad back at him and rising from his chair, Dean ambled over to their room's small fridge with a belch. "We got beer?"

Sam dumped the remains of his lunch in the trash. "Yes, but..." he winced as the last beer - his, technically, since he'd gotten none of that particular six-pack - was opened and half consumed. "Never mind." He went back to the so-called bucket list. "Play drums with Metallica?"

"Yep."

"You don't know how to play the drums." Sam noted another entry. "Or the slide guitar."

"How hard is it to play the drums?" Dean asked, and proceeded to bang on the table, making Sam lunge for his laptop, a pile of papers regarding his latest research, and Dean's beer bottle before it all toppled onto the floor.

"Will you cut it out!"

Dean cut it out. "Killjoy."

"This is a joke, right?"

"Nope. We'll get started as soon as we wrap up this gig."

Sam shook his head and turned the second page back around so his brother could see where he was tapping his finger. "What about this one?"

"What about it?"

"Hawaii? Surfing?"

"Dude!" Dean did a very passable Keanu. "Why not? It's gnarly!"

"Last time I checked the Impala isn't Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. It doesn't float or fly. How are you going to get to Hawaii?"

"Number 2."

Flipping the page back over, Sam read entry number 2. "Buy and learn to sail a yacht. Oh come on, this is ridiculous."

"I'm dying. You can humor me."

"I've _been _humoring you. If I wasn't humoring you I would be giving you crap about desecrating my lunch and drinking my beer!"

Dean finished said beer. "That's good to know because I also took your last twenty bucks."

"What?!"

"And lost it playing poker."

"Humor you - uh-huh. I'm done. You better hurry up and get started on this, because you don't have two more weeks." Sam shook the pages in Dean's face before slamming them down on the table. "You have two seconds, because I'm going to choke you with your own damn bucket list."

Obviously unperturbed by the threat, Dean chuckled. Sam struggled to keep a straight face himself. He wasn't sure if he were going to laugh or cry though, because he'd caught sight of the last two items on the list, items Dean had added, and then crossed off, but not enough so that Sam couldn't read them.

_Marry for love_

_Have kids_

Sam pulled the laptop over and started typing. When he was done he printed what he had written and handed it to his brother.

"What is this?" Dean asked, taking the paper gingerly, as if it might explode at any moment.

"My bucket list."

"Dude. There's only one thing here. You can't have just one thing, Sam. That's not how it works."

"Just read it."

Dean read it, and then read it again. It was almost comical to watch the way his face contorted as he tried to compensate for what Sam had nailed him with. A second later he was on his feet and moving. He very nearly knocked over his chair in his haste to escape the room.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked quietly, retrieving his list from where Dean had dropped it.

"Uh...out. We need more beer and...you need lunch." Dean said gruffly. He cleared his throat before continuing with decidedly forced lightness. "Something better than rabbit food. I don't know how you expect to keep that giant mutant body of yours going on lettuce and freakin' bean sprouts."

"I thought you didn't have any cash."

At the door, Dean paused and grinned. "I took your last twenty last night. I pinched the ten this morning."

"Dammit, Dean!"

The door slammed.

When he was good and gone, Sam picked up both lists. He looked them over again, smiling through watery eyes as he read some more of Dean's outrageous entries. It probably wasn't fair of him to have written what he had when Dean was truly just kidding around trying to lighten up Sam's dour mood. Number 7 did make him laugh out loud.

"Win a Spam sculpting contest. Jesus wept..."

His own list wasn't intended to be humorous, but he had the sinking feeling that it was probably just as outrageous. With shaking hands he shuffled his list to the top and stared at it. His laughter died abruptly.

"God...Dean..."

Tears fell on the paper. The ink blurred, then ran, taking the words away with it.

Sam's number one entry, his _only_ entry, had read:

_Save my brother._


End file.
